


angels || narry storan

by narryspickle



Category: One Direction (Band), Supernatural, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel Niall, Angst, Cheating, Demon Louis, Depressed Harry, Drug Abuse, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fucked Up, Gay, Harry's really sad, Heterosexual relationships, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Nudity, Past Relationship(s), Past Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson, Physical Abuse, Pining, Religion, Religious References, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Trust Issues, Violence, YOLO, anyway, but he turns human, depressed Tyler, did I mention that?, he's like really sad, im so bad at tags im so sorry, niall was his guardian angel, obvi, sort of, the smut is really detailed bc i like it that way, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narryspickle/pseuds/narryspickle
Summary: In which a troubled angel finds himself becoming a part of the human world with a family and friends who he hadn't known existed.☪WARNING ; mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts. Read at your own risk. Also may include: use of drugs, nudity, violence, and other mature content.





	1. prologue || of the angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I beg that you be extremely responsible of your reading, especially considering it's content. If you are not comfortable reading it, please please turn around and don't continue after this page. 
> 
> Also, there will be some religious references. I, myself, come from a Catholic family but I don't entirely consider myself a religious person. I'm not that religious at all, to be honest, but some of this stuff is pretty interesting and I thought it would be fun to play around with the more fictional side of it? I'm also a huge supernatural fan so you can expect a crossover. 
> 
> I mean this in the most respectful way, but you are welcome to stop reading at any time if you feel uncomfortable with the religious material that is being talked about.
> 
> Hey, it's alright. I get it, okay? I'm not going to sit around and beg you to read my story if you're not comfortable reading it or 100% in love with it. Where's the fun in that? I've always liked a little challenge, anyway.
> 
> Other than that, thank you to those who choose to keep reading. Know that you are very appreciated and that you are loved, because nothing makes me happier than to be given a chance to be a vague part of someone else's existence, and it's cool as fuck to know that people from all over the world are reading my story. 
> 
> ☪

If I were taught to construct, I'd build a nightmare. 

This one would be different from the rest. 

This nightmare would not be an illusion or a fixed world for the mind to sulk in whenever it needs an escape after a long day of deception. It would be real, though not real enough to kill the dreams that children once chased after. The monsters in this nightmare would not be true monsters. They'd be sweet, alluring little creatures; and they'd have fingernails for claws and pretty emeralds for eyes. They'd live as happy lives as monsters can live in a world where they will never be accepted. They'd be oblivious of their monstrosity until the day reality would catch up to them and Death himself would sweep these beasts away, with his arm over those corpses covered in blood and oozing hope. 

If I were taught how to feel, I'd carry a blade. 

This blade would be of no harm.

It would be made of plastic. It's touch would be so soft that one would be forced to build pressure on it in order to cut through anything. As pressure builds, so does anger, and with angry swipes of the blade across the minds of innocent hearts, I'd be in so much pain that I would feel the tightening of my throat slowly close in on itself. I would appriciate the empty intakes of breath that I take today and learn to love the air that I once had to breathe, and maybe then, I'd be as grateful as I want to be. 

If I were taught to shoot, I'd make a gun.

This gun would be the most dangerous of all. 

This gun would be silent. It would have fingers for triggers and no removable bullets, so that if someone tried to take this gun away from me, they'd have to rip me up to pieces. It would be connected to my body so that I would always have the easy access of pointing it towards anyone I never liked; including myself. I wouldn't get in trouble for shooting it because my actions would be justified by the faults of my genetic structure. Instead, I would get the help I needed to get through the rest of my life and have nice people around to treat me with gentle care.

They wouldn't push me away as they once did before. They would have to surrender to my frantic cries for help only because they'd have no other choice. They'd consider me a psychopath, and the only way to treat a psychopath is to make them believe you care. 

However, I wasn't taught any of these things. I wasn't given the desire to do any of these stupid things because I am no human. I am an angel, and unlike humans, I am unbreakable. Unlike humans, I accept defeat, and unlike humans, I know how to lose a fair fight, even if that fight is against myself. 

I do not wish to dream for nightmares; I do not build worthless objects; and I do not cry for pointless reasons. 

I am an angel; but sometimes I wish I weren't. 

I wish I had the ability to feel the same way humans do. I wish that I could comprehend their need to be so selfish, and why it's so important for them to feel a more superior power than those they love.

Why do they cry? What amount of pain needs to reach their hearts in order to spill tears from their eyes? Why do some feel as though they are not worthy of living? How much does it cost to live? What price are they willing to pay? 

What makes humans so special, anyway? All they do is hurt.

I, myself, am getting tired of it; but it isn't my place to have an opinion over the matter.

I am an angel. It is my job to follow orders and my job to do nothing more than to fight battles that were created by those who aren't me. It's my job to fight the battles of those humans who got lost along the path of finding themselves. 

My curiosity was first sprung by a seventeen-year-old boy named Billy Sanders. He was my first assignment. 

Billy was a bad man. My job was to make Billy change. My job was to make Billy realize that there were other things in life that were better than putting people down and making them feel as though their placement on earth was a mistake. 

I did everything to make him change. I took his mother away in a car crash, a week after he had deliberately beaten her until she was too wake to stand up. I took away his friends in a fire after he'd finished blackmailing them. I drowned his girlfriend while she was on a trip with her family, two days after he had cheated on her. It sounds brutal and unfair for those other people, but if I didn't change Billy soon, he would've grown up to be a killer and he would've killed everyone he loved anyway. I gave them a better way out, and a nice little spot in heaven. 

Despite my efforts, I only managed to anger Billy. Of course I knew he'd be angry, but I was hoping he'd be more remorseful now that the people he loved were gone. I hoped he would look back at his mistakes and see why all those things he did were wrong. 

Billy never changed. Instead, he filmed himself killing two little girls he had kidnapped from a nearby school, and later committed suicide. 

I was refrained from doing any more assignments until further notice for my brutal act upon the mission, and my failure of doing any good towards Billy. However, after Billy died, I think all of the angels realized too late that there was no way that man could've been helped. We could only do so much, and Billy was storm of everything that makes a human sick. 

It's strange... Even after Billy's death, I was never able to wrap my head around the fact that he had so many opportunities to change for his own good, and yet he never tried to stop being bad. Didn't he want to be happy? That's what every human seems to want, after all. Why was it so hard for him to see how many people he was hurting? 

My infatuation with human hearts and their ability to feel almost disappeared completely. I was almost convinced that the things we were meant to protect didn't deserve any protection. I almost let myself believe that there was no beauty hidden within these so called "masterpieces."

Then, I met Harry. 

Harry Styles was another assignment of mine. 

It was up to me to take care of him about three decades after I watched Billy hang himself. My job with Harry was a little more strange. He was a grown man, whereas Billy was only a teenager when I learned of him. Billy loved hurting people, though the thing that made Harry happiest was hurting himself to see the rest of the world smile. There was love that hid behind every inch of Harry's body, which was new to me, considering every other assignment I had before him only dribbled with hate. 

However, after my first encounter with Harry, I knew he was going to be my most difficult assignment yet.

Twenty-three-year-old Harry Styles worked at an electronics department, but he liked to play comedian at a nearby pub every Friday night between the hours of six and seven. He was a pretty good one, too. 

The thing that made Harry so good at making others laugh wasn't because his jokes were the best. Actually, his jokes were terrible. They were corny and cliché-- and they were never original, so it was easy to tell that those knock knock jokes he made to cheer up those little boys and girls at the hospital I first found him in were more than likely taken out of the cereal box in his pantry.

But he loved to humiliate himself. He loved making a proper fool of himself to rattle a chuckle out of everyone else. Every time I found myself near him, I felt suffocated by the overwhelming aura of everything that surrounded him and followed him everywhere he went. He had a spirit that screamed fighter and every time he moved, leaped from heart to heart and encouraged peace in a world where it felt like there was none, the world swooned as if it were in love with him, too. It was because of him that time went slower and it was easier to appreciate the good and the bad and the not-so-greats. It surprised me that he didn't spend his days and nights knocking on door to door, telling strangers to take his joy-- all of it; not to worry about him because he had more. The guy had an endless supply of it, and it was because he could share it that he was proud to call himself human. 

He told his most ridiculous stories like he was traveling back in time and going through them again. He liked to move his hands a lot when he spoke in that soft voice of his, as if he was a great magician and he was getting ready to put his audience in awe with his first trick. He never let himself force a laugh when he didn't want to, because he knew that the only thing people loved more than a good joke was a genuine laugh from someone who shined brighter than the sun, and he was an entire galaxy of stars.

But just like galaxies, he had a darkness in his life.

Harry watched his mother die in front of his very own eyes when he was only an infant. She was beaten to death by her husband, Harry's step father. A nearby neighbor called the police in the time that this was happening, and it was later known that Harry had also been a victim of sexual abuse by the same man that killed his mother.

He suffered intense PTSD and within the span of a few days, his life had turned into constant interaction with doctors and psychiatrists. As an adult, he now doesn't remember a huge deal of his childhood but he's fully aware of having no biological parents, though his adoptive ones still seem to be his entire world.

He's been through a lot-- more than anyone could ever imagine-- with constant nightmares and feelings of deep depression and anxiety, but he doesn't let any of it get to him because he still loves his life and doesn't want to leave it. It amazes me that he can still go through his days making other people smile. As a comedian with depression, he dominated irony like he owned it. It was crazy to know that he could have such power over himself and the people around him. 

I immediately wanted to know what it was to be with such a magnificent person; because, I, too, wanted to feel that rattling laugh tickle up my throat like those people I saw Harry influence. I wanted to know what it was to smile because of him. I wanted to feel the same way humans do, and I still do. 

As of the past two days, I've been seeking help from someone who could grant me my wish. I will be human, and I will prove to be the greatest man to ever live. I will know what it is to be human and to love a man as great as Harry Styles. I will know pain and bliss. I will know sadness and joy. I will know all emotion gifted to humans. 

I am an angel, but soon, I will be human.

I will feel. I will love. I will be taught.


	2. one || new soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the angel learns that his new name is Niall, he was a drug addict, and that there's something really fishy going on with his newly found little sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mainly for a girl I've known for the longest time; who's sworn left and right that she would give up on everything and everyone that ever dared make her happy, but never actually gave up on anything. 
> 
> Know that I'm proud of every monster you've ever managed to tear apart just by the never-ending sparkle in your eyes. Be aware that you will encounter more, and it's up to you to decide whether you'll tear them down, too, or not. 
> 
> I love you. Remember that. 
> 
> To my readers; same goes for you. I love you, you beautiful sons of bitches. I will never not be grateful that you exist. It is because of all of you that I am as happy as I am today. This one's for you. Enjoy :) x
> 
> ☪

The stars aren't shining when I wake up.

The night is loud and moving, vaguely allowing the moonlight to illuminate a very small portion of whatever room I'm in. It isn't until I walk towards the window, near what I believe is a bedpost, that I notice that the stars _can't_ shine even if they wanted to. The big gray clouds that cover the sky are too thick, pouring rain down onto the city below as if it were a sink being filled with the dirty water of humanity's sinful hands. It takes me a moment to realize that I'm not in the same isolated little house in the middle of the old town I was in before. I'm in a much more crowded, much more noisy, much larger apartment complex that separates into smaller rooms.

It takes me another second to realize what I've done.

_I've just given up my grace for humanity._

In the blink of an eye, I get flashbacks of being locked in a metal chamber where my wings were physically torn from my body. I remember screaming in excruciating agony as I felt my own blood run down my spine. I remember watching the monster I sought guidance from slit my throat and retreat my grace, bottling it up in a small container and grinning wickedly as they took it away from me before healing my wound. Where there should be a fresh scar healing in the front of my throat, I feel nothing but smooth skin. As I reach behind me to confirm that my wings are indeed gone, I only feel the skin over the bone of my shoulder blades. Though there is no blood gushing out of my body like there was before, I now feel an emptiness I have never experienced.

I no longer have wings. I can no longer feel the powerful drag of them over my shoulders; can no longer spread them wide in a stretch to show off their magnificence. Instead, I find myself in the figure of a man-- a human-- with big calloused hands and two human feet to walk on. My grace is gone, too, meaning that I can no longer feel every fiber of the universe underneath the palm of my hand, nor see every wavelength known to man in the blink of an eye; instead, I only feel the soft scruff against my cheeks as I slide a hand over my face and faintly make out the moon playing hide and seek with his friends, the clouds. It's stopped raining. The temporary silence gives me a moment of cognizance.

_I am human now._

What vessel am I in? I am not yet sure.

"Niall?" The gentle voice of a little girl behind me brings me out of my thoughts. I turn around to look at her properly and I'm met by her terrified brown eyes. The most immediate thing that I notice about her is that she's very slim. She's small, too, and she looks as though she would be blown away with the wind if I so much as breathed next to her. Her long brown hair is in a tangled mess, and the dark bags underneath her red-rimmed eyes make me pity her emotional stability. She couldn't be older than fourteen. 

"You know my name?" I ask her, slowly becoming as afraid as she looks.

I do not recall my real name. I do not remember my name before this new transformation occurred. Niall must be the name of my vessel; but, then, who was I before?

"Of course I do, I'm your sister." A laugh escapes her thin lips; a nervous one that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "You're awake. I thought you were... you know... dead."

I am left confused at her words. If my vessel was dead, what was I doing laying peacefully on my bed, feeling as though I've been woken from a thousand-year nap? I cannot possess a human body without the consent of the human. I might as well consider myself a demon, then. I would be breaking one of the biggest angel rules.

Then again, although my memory isn't at its best right now, I do remember making a deal with a heartless monster, and that heartless monster is definitely capable of breaking all sorts of rules.

"You thought I was dead?" I ask carefully.

"Well, you weren't really breathing," she whispers. I wonder if she was hoping I was dead. She doesn't look disappointed that I'm here, but I can tell that she's afraid of me. I am making her feel afraid. Why is she afraid of me? "Then again," she begins, "you always get like that when--" she immediately closes her mouth as though she's a child repeating a curse word in front of her parents. Her eyes widen in horror and her right hand is quickly placed over her mouth.

"When what?" I ask. I answer my own question as I look down and see multiple bruises on my arms with puncture wounds. Under the bed, I can see a needle poking out. I immediately assume that this "Niall" human had died from an overdose. I am only here to take his place.

"I'm sorry," says the girl. "I know you hate it when I bring it up."

"It's okay," I tell her, but I don't really know why it's okay. What could Niall have hated so much that he distracted himself with drugs and took his life for a little buzz? _And why in heavens is this little girl so afraid of me?_   What could her brother have done to make her shift so uncomfortably under my gaze?

I don't ask her any of these questions out loud. Instead, I notice the way her eyelids are weighing down on her eyes and she's trying very hard to keep them open. I tilt my head to the side with curiosity and ask, "Why aren't you in bed yet? It's very late."

"I was about to call an ambulance," she bashfully responds, and I almost don't believe her, but there's a phone in her hand that at least gives me hope that she still cared enough about her brother to call an ambulance after the overdose.

"Oh..." I respond. There's a quiet that settles in the atmosphere and I catch her bowing down her head in shame.

"I can get in bed if that's what you want me to do," she says quietly. I don't notice the way she's trying to unbutton her blouse immediately, but when I do, I'm dumbfounded by her actions and I feel myself become embarrassed.

"You should," I tell her, attempting to distract from my reddening cheeks. "You look like you haven't had proper rest in ages."

She looks confused for a moment, and she stops unbuttoning her blouse, but her look of fear is finally gone and I see her become embarrassed as well. "Y-yeah..." she stutters. "yeah, okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I call after her, but I'm not sure if she hears me as she runs off to her room and slams her door shut.

I, however, can't get myself to sleep.

Instead, I spend the rest of the night wondering what kind of human life I've now become a part of. Instead, I find myself becoming worried that this was a bad decision and I never should've agreed to this, but I also find myself smiling as I realize what's happening.

I'm feeling. I can feel. I am human now.

☪

The morning is even more strange than the night. The little girl I met, Niall's little sister-- or, my little sister-- is happier with my presence. She doesn't look bothered by me like she did last night, and I take that as a good sign. I find her walking around in the kitchen in a loose fit of clothes that look too big for her to wear, singing quietly to herself as if she has no worries on her mind. I almost feel like an intruder as I take a seat at the kitchen table.

Technically, I am an intruder, and I let the guilt weigh down on me only until I remember how scared she was of me before.

_Perhaps this was a good decision._

"Good morning," I greet her. She turns around to face me with a gentle smile on her lips.

"Good morning! I made breakfast." Her grin gets bigger as she excitedly serves me four round, strange-looking substance with little brown dots all over them, some white creme on top and a strawberry to compliment it.

****_Pancakes_**** , I think they're called. I've heard of them before, but I never knew what was so great about them. Humans seem to enjoy them. They can't be terrible, can they?

I've never eaten before. I've never had to eat, but as I take my first bite of this new thing that I have to eat, both my stomach and taste buds explode in happiness and I find myself devouring my breakfast in seconds.

"This is delicious," I nearly moan. "Oh my goodness, this is so good. Do you have anything to drink? My throat feels dry."

She laughs as me, this laugh being more genuine than the one she gave me last night, and she serves me a glass of what I think is orange juice; and, let me tell you, orange juice is now my all-time favorite drink. That's probably saying very little, though, because I've never had anything else to compare it to. "Tha--" I burp loudly, "Thank you so much. And sorry."

She shakes her head through quiet giggles. I find it endearing that after meeting her and seeing her be afraid of me, she is now kind enough to give me this newly found positive attitude. I wonder if this is the first time she's ever smiled, and I wonder if I'll be able to make her do it more often. Thanks to her, I fall a little more in love with humans.

In the middle of begging like a child for more food, I catch a glimpse of purple marks around her wrists. "What happened to your arms?" I ask.

She raises a brow at me, looks at me with curiosity, and says, "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

She turns quiet. Her lips close into a tight-lipped frown and I can tell that she's thinking. I'm not sure what she's thinking about, but I assume it must be about me, and that it's an important piece of information that I should know about. "Never mind," she dismisses me. "I should probably go grocery shopping. Our fridge is nearly empty. I think we have enough money for a proper dinner tonight."

"Don't you have school to go to?"

"On a Saturday? No." I watch in silence as she picks up my plate and washes it in the kitchen sink. “I can call you in sick for work if you want. You seem out of sorts today. You can rest while I’m gone, alright?”

_Work?_

I suppose I do have to work. I _must_ have a job, considering I’m a full-grown adult, but where do I work? I was merely thrown into this life. Where am I supposed to go from here?

“Okay,” I tell her anyway, pretending I’m fully conscious of what she’s telling me.

I watch her slip on a coat and a pair of boots. She walks towards me and catches me by surprise when she brushes away the fringe in front of my face and kisses my cheek with gentle lips. “I’ll see you later tonight, alright? I love you.”

I can only smile at her when she says that. I hardly know her, and love is very a strong emotion. I suppose I should say it back, considering I’m her brother and all, but she is satisfied by my silence and smiles back at me as she rushes out the door and leaves me to fend for myself.

Once again, I am alone. Now, I can do nothing more than to stare into blank space. What do I do now? My wish has been granted, and I can do anything a human can do, but what now? How do I become the greatest human to ever live if I don’t even know my apparent sister’s name? I guess I should’ve thought this through a little more.  

My silence is suddenly interrupted when I hear the unmistakable laugh of the monster who put me here boom behind me. I can nearly feel him standing behind me, and his very presence alone makes goosebumps rise on my skin and my heart rate accelerate in a matter of seconds. “Well, you’re doing great. How’s the human life workin' for ya, eh, sunshine?”

My hands begin to shake almost violently, knowing that I am now mortal and have no power against him, but I don’t let myself show how terrified I am of him as I turn around and look into his pitch-black eyes in sheer anger.

“Louis.” 


	3. two || son of hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is introduced as a deal-making demon who changed the angel's way of living forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has occurred to me that there are rules and terminology that readers outside of the Supernatural fandom will not understand. DO NOT FEAR, I will explain those rules and terminology as this story continues. For those of you who already watch Supernatural, it will serve as a reminder. For those of you who have never laid your eyes on the show, you will be able to at least carry along with the story without getting lost. 
> 
> Another thing, I am well aware that guardian angels do not exist in Supernatural (as far as I'm aware) save for the Arc angels, who are meant to protect God's prophets at all costs. Remember, this is a work of FANfiction. Though I do not take full credit for the whole demons vs angels system, I still wanted to add in a little something of my own, yeah? Just-- carry on. Read as you please and any questions concerning the story will be answered as soon as possible if you need them to be answered :))))))
> 
> This one's short and important. Enjoy.

I've known Louis for as long as I can remember.

Eons ago, when our interactions with humans were minimal, I saved him. Not because I wanted to, nor because it was my intention, but because I had no other choice.

I was once a normal angel. I was considered a soldier of the Lord before I was given my spot as a guardian. I, along with a much larger group of angels, was meant to retreat another angel who was being kept as a hostage in hell by a demon. That demon just happened to be the most powerful of all crossroad demons; Crowley, the current king of Hell, and previous king of crossroads.

I ran into him, and Crowley being the insufferable bastard he was, accepted to return our angel as long as he got a human soul from heaven in return.

Human souls are known for being very valuable. If corrupted and tortured enough, they turn into demons. At the time, Crowley was running low on staff and was planning on building a bigger business among crossroads. A new soul to corrupt was exactly what he needed.

I refused, but the rest of the angels didn't.

Despite my efforts to stop another human from being tortured so mercilessly for having no fault, Louis Tomlinson was thrown out of heaven and shoved straight into hell. He was hand-picked by Crowley. I knew nothing of who he was before other than the fact that he was a good person, but after we let him go, he became such a monstrosity that he turned into Crowley's favorite pet.

I kept tabs on him, after that. I wanted to know what he was doing for every second of every day and I wanted to be there if he was to do something that he would've never forgiven himself for when he was still sane. I wanted to be there when he messed up and did something so unforgivable that all of humanity would have to pay for his mistakes.

I found him playing around Lucifer's cage, one unlucky day. Had I not been there to take him out, Lucifer would've both killed Louis and escaped from his cage. Louis' had a soft spot for me ever since.

Now, seeing him before me after asking for a favor as grand as the replacement of my grace for my humanity is almost unfathomable.

"Why are you here, Louis?"

"Nice to see you, too," he chuckles. His grin is sinister. His lips twist into a smile so wide, I fear that the cheeks of the vessel he's in will split.

He's wearing the body of a young girl with short red hair. She's pretty and tall. Her eyes are an almost alluring shade of green that could be mistaken for the emeralds that I would see in the monsters of my perfect world. Her dress is short cut and revealing, and the ripped front part of her leggings make me feel worried about where Louis managed to find this girl.

"You like her? Pretty, huh? She was mugged outside a bar last night. Poor thing. I tried to save her, but I only managed to hear the snapping of her mugger's neck after he killed her." I find myself struggling to find my own words. My throat is dry in an instant and I gulp on nothing but my own fear and the bile that threatens to escape my mouth.

"What are you doing here?" I ask again, watching as he does nothing more than throw his head back in sheer amusement.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm checking up on you. I can't have you runnin' around this town not knowing who the hell you are. How are you? How's Niall?" He looks me up and down and lets his fingertips brush against my cheeks, softly, as if I were made of porcelain and he was afraid of breaking me. The laugh that follows his gentle touch makes me squirm. "Oh, right, he's **dead**. _You're_ Niall Horan now."

"Why did you put me in this vessel?"

He rolls his eyes at me, visibly becoming impatient with my lack of appreciation, but I'm having trouble figuring out what I should be appreciative for. He granted my wish, yes, but something about waking up in the body of a dead man who I know little about makes me feel unsure. "Relax, princess, will you? It's fine. He was an asshole, anyway. Probably rotting in hell as we speak."

I clench my fists at my sides. "Do you know how much trouble I'll be in if heaven finds out? I am not meant to possess the body of a dead human with no consent. If anyone were to find out, I'd be ruined."

"Who says he never gave you his consent?" Louis scoffs. "He prayed for you; seconds before he died, he prayed for you. I got you in just in time. 'Sides, you're not even an angel anymore. You have your own soul now. How does that feel?"

_How does this feel?_

It feels like I've been liberated in the scariest way. It feels like I've somehow betrayed everything I stood for, and like I have put to shame all that I am and knew myself to be, but I also feel free. This feeling-- this shame and this fear-- this is part of the thing that I've always wanted. I wanted to feel. I dreamed of being excited and being happy, and knowing what it was like to be on the brink of tears. I just wanted to feel, and feeling is a feeling I can never describe.

Unable to find words, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and tell him sincerely, "I feel different. It's a good different."

Louis grins at me. He takes my answer and struts his way into the kitchen to return with a bottle of what looks like wine. "Good, good," he says to me, pouring himself a drink in a small glass cup. "Listen," he begins, swallowing a gulp of his drink before looking me in the eyes. "I need you to watch your ass. Crowley would be all over mine if he finds out what I did for you."

"You really came to help?"

 _"Yes, I'm here to bloody help!"_ Louis' eyes go pitch black again. In a fit of anger, his presence alone causes the lights around the house to flicker and a glass vase near the TV to shatter into pieces. His hands shake violently and I fear that he will harm me. I've never had to fear a demon before, so right now I'm more afraid than ever that with just the snap of his fingers, he'll break every bone in my body and cause every functioning organ in my body to turn into mush. "Listen," he nearly growls. "This doesn't mean we're besties now, but I have a damn good relationship with my boss at the moment, and I don't want to ruin my chances because some scrawny angel saved my life."

I can only lower my head and nod slightly, still reluctant to look into his eyes. "What do I need to know?"

Louis presses his lips together. He steps closer to me; close enough so that my back is against the kitchen counter and I can't run away from him. His hands tug the front part of my shirt tightly and he pulls me in so that I can hear his angry threatening whispers. "Your name is Niall Horan," he mutters. "Not Niel, not Nigel, not Ned-- _NIALL_ , got it? You used to be a drug addict, but now you're not. You used to sexually abuse of your thirteen-year-old sister, but now you don't. You used to be a fucking dick to the world, and you tried to kill yourself a few times after you drowned your newborn nephew, but now, you're a fuckin' saint, got it? You don't get into any trouble, your life is perfect, and you take care of both yourself and that innocent little girl, _do you understand_?" 

"Yes, of course--" My eyes widen in horror as I begin to process the things that are coming out of his mouth and I can barely understand him anymore when I realize how much of a monster Niall Horan was. Louis doesn't even give me a second chance to breathe as he lets go of me and shoves me away.

"Your best friend is Liam Payne. He lives next door. You work as a waiter in a restaurant downtown. You're single, and you're not allowed to sleep around. Turn this fucking prick's life around. Can you do that?" Confused, I stare at Louis. I never knew of him to have a good heart since he was corrupted. Demons never wish for any good upon anyone but themselves. What does he care now?

There is a silence that settles between us, one that takes me by the throat and doesn't let me go until I start to see Louis back away from me. "I can try," I quietly tell him.

"Good," he sighs. He turns his back to me, getting ready to leave. "I'll be around. Don't let me down."

"Wait!"

He stops. He looks back at me with an irritated look on his face. I can almost hear the venom in his voice when he spits, "What?"

I have to swallow around nothing once more and force my tounge to move in a quick stutter. "What-- what was my name? Before all of this happened... what was my name?"

Louis' eyes soften. This time, his smile is genuine. It doesn't make me feel unsafe or afraid. Instead, it makes me want to trust that he will be there if I'm ever in need of him, as crazy as it sounds.

"Your name is Niall," he says. "You will always be Niall. _You always were Niall_."


End file.
